


Shadows of the Mind

by Fighting4Fandoms



Series: Sheriarty [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Sherlock Holmes, Fluff, Genderbending, M/M, Moriarty is Alive, Red String of Fate, Romance, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty Fluff, Singing, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fighting4Fandoms/pseuds/Fighting4Fandoms
Summary: Sometimes people can be bound by destiny. Sherlock spent a long time believing that John was the man who was attached to her by a red ribbon... oh how wrong she was.Who knew that the person who she would be bound to her would be a consulting criminal?
Relationships: Eurus Holmes & Jim Moriarty, Eurus Holmes & Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Sheriarty [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789132
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. The Red Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

> Villanelle from Killing Eve does make an appearance later on in the story just not yet! 😁

In every good, old fashioned story, there is a hero and a villain but sometimes heroes can be villainous and villains are able to be heroic. 

The story of Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty was as a tale as old as time. This particular story however isn't a tale of two enemies. No. That would be too easy. This is a love story. 

2010

John Watson was reluctant at first to flat share with a woman. Is that a little weird? What would people think? Those thoughts left his head however a few weeks after living with Sherlock Holmes. 

She was different but maybe he needed different. All those cases were a major distraction but it was a good distraction. He would be lying if he said he didn't find Sherlock attractive. Yes, she was quite a fetching creature. Naturally beautiful. She didn't really care about the things that society deemed as necessary to be beautiful. Those piercing blue eyes... sharp cheekbones that looked like they had been carved by angels... and those luscious, raven locks that were only ever properly seen in their full glory after a bath or shower. Sherlock mostly wore her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head, it would get in the way else. John guessed that if Sherlock straightened her hair, it would be as long as the centre of her spine. 

"You alright?" He asked her one evening.

Sherlock had been staring out of the window for a full hour, just gazing out with lifeless eyes. 

"Sherlock?" John tried to reach her when she didn't respond. 

"Do you think that I'm odd, John?" Sherlock asked, turning to face him, those blue eyes twinkling beautifully in the light. 

John pondered. "Yes. It's not a bad thing though. Just means you're interesting."

Sherlock smiled but probably not in the way that John perceived her to be, not in a way he would understand the meaning behind it. 

"Want a cuppa?" He pushed himself out of his armchair. 

Shaking her head, Sherlock turned to the hallway, "I'm going to bed." 

"It's not even 10." John pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece. "You sure you're alright?"

"Quite so." 

Sherlock left for her bedroom. John listened out for her bedroom door clicking closed. He let out a sigh, he would never understand the millions of thoughts that rushed through her head. His would probably implode. Something was wrong. He just didn't know what it was. 

Staring up at the ceiling, Sherlock sighed sadly. In the corner of the room, lying strewn on the dresser was a red ribbon. It hadn't been touched in so long. Stupidly, Sherlock first deduced that it had been put there by John but when she asked him about it he hadn't the foggiest idea of how it came to be there. 

She liked John. She did. Just not in the way Scotland Yard were making bets on. They were better off as friends. Even as a child, Sherlock had always found it difficult to create relationships with people. Perhaps she could find a real friend in John, something she hadn't had in years. For someone with a mind as vast and full of knowledge as hers, why was it difficult to have or even understand a romantic relationship?

What Sherlock Holmes didn't know was at that exact moment a criminal mastermind was sitting in an empty room. More precisely, a padded cell. Around his bloodied finger was a ribbon that had been stained with velvet blood. Beaten and abused, he only had his mind on all the chaos he could make. Wreaking havoc without even getting his hands dirty?

What a turn on. 


	2. The Angel and the Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fateful meeting by the pool.

Water. 

A life sustaining property that has been around since the dawn of the Earth. A little fall of rain never hurt anyone but a lot could prove to be fateful as Sherlock would see one day. 

Not this day. 

"I gave you my number," a mocking voice could be heard from behind the shadows, "thought you might call." 

Sherlock held her breath as the figure came into full view. He was a lot different than the first time she laid eyes on him in Barts. Her eyes widened when the fine suited man stood a few metres away from her. 

"It's you." She whispered. 

"Jim?" He chuckled, "Jim from the hospital?"

There was a moment of silence. The tension between the consulting detective and consulting criminal grew, connected through their eyes alone. 

"I do have to admit..." his smile was intoxicating, "I'm impressed. Annoyed. Yet... very impressed." 

Sherlock resisted the urge to smirk. 

He pointed at her, his smile not wavering. "You have become a thorn in my side." He took a step forward, eyeing John as he walked beside him. He found it somewhat hilarious when Sherlock pulled a gun out of the inside pocket of her blazer. 

"Who are you?"

He loved the silkiness of her voice.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi." He waved his hand. "And what... do you suppose I am?" 

The fact that Sherlock deduced it in less than a second was definitely something he liked. 

"A consulting criminal."

Moriarty nodded, almost enjoying the answer that she gave. 'Consulting criminal' had a rather nice ring to it. 

Good and evil is a matter of perspective. In this case, it was almost true. Moriarty took enjoyment out of causing havoc. 9/10 times, his havoc caused pain. He confessed that he was intrigued by this Sherlock Holmes the moment he had heard her name. The fact that she was a woman made no contribution to it. Women, in Mortiarty's opinion, had the ability to be more cruel, more deadly, and more fascinating. 

"If you don't stop prying..." he sighed, "I would be resorted to do something that I really do not want to do." 

Sherlock, not even having control over her actions, could not stop staring at his lips. 

"Why would I stop?" She asked, her hand staying firm on the gun. "I thought we were having a moment." 

Moriarty didn't laugh, but he found the joke rather humorous. "We will see each other again." 

As he was about to leave, his phone rang. Sherlock attempted to stifle her laugh as the Beegees played out of the speakers. The acoustics made it funnier, his face screwed up in annoyance. 

Zoning out for a moment, Sherlock stared at the phone he had pressed against his ear. On his finger was a silver ring, an engraved band. Not a wedding band though but she deduced that it was of some manner of importance to him. 

"I apologize." He said, biting his lip, "wrong day to die." 

Sherlock lowered the gun, "got a better offer?" 

Mortiarty smirked, his eyes twinkling from the reflection of the pool. "See you around Sherlock." 

"Catch. You. Later." 

She waited until he and the snipers were completely gone before leaping over to help John out of the bomb jacket. 

"Are you alright?" She asked worriedly. "John?" 

John let out a deep sigh, "what the fuck was that all about?" 

Sherlock wished that she knew but she didn't. What she did know was that it wasn't the end of him. They had just met a demon.... a very attractive devil.

...

Oh bollocks. 


	3. Slender Things and Violin Strings

After the whole debacle with Irene Adler, Sherlock was more determined than ever to find Moriarty. The months grew on and there hadn't even been an inkling of his return. 

She couldn't quite put into words the way she felt about the criminal. Sherlock was, dare she say it, confused. It didn't happen often but she didn't like it when the feeling came. Sherlock was often bewildered by social interactions and etiquette, sometimes she would replay conversations that had occured between herself and Mortiarty. The memories didn't replay in the same way that they had happened in. 

"I'm going to Sarah's." John informed her one particular night. The night when everything changed. 

Sherlock nodded from her armchair as she tuned her violin. 

"Have fun." Sherlock didn't actually have a bad word to say about Sarah, compared to the other women he had previously been with. Sarah was nice enough. 

John bowed his head, "see you tomorrow evening?" 

"You've got your key, right?" She asked. "Just in case I'm not here?" 

He nodded, grabbing his coat before saying goodbye. 

She sat there for a while, just in thought. She didn't even notice her landlady come in and sit down in John's armchair. 

"Sherlock?" 

"Oh." Sherlock gasped. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"Lost in thought, dear?" 

Sherlock sighed with a shrug, putting her violin on the table beside her chair. "Something like that I guess..."

Mrs Hudson frowned, she had always seen her tenant like the daughter she never had. The strange, crime solving daughter she never had... who did some drugs on the side. 

"It's a shame that you and John don't get together. You'd make such a lovely couple." She fawned. 

Repulsed by the notion, Sherlock screwed her face up in disgust. 

"Perhaps not then." Mrs Hudson chuckled. 

"I like John, I do, just not like that." She explained. 

"Who then, dear? Anyone in mind." Mrs Hudson asked. "If it's not too bold of me to ask." 

Sherlock shrugged her shoulders, tucking her knees up to her chest. 

"Well, I'd better be off, busy day tomorrow." 

"Hmm." 

Sherlock knew exactly what her landlady meant by "busy". Still she smiled and watched her leave through the door. Alone again. Sherlock didn't mind being alone. At least not all the time. 

*PING* 

Sherlock took her phone out of her pocket and her eyes widened at the message. More exactly, who the message was from. 

_Dinner? - M_

Just to make it crystal clear, the M did not stand for her brother, Mycroft Holmes. 

It also did not stand for Molly Hooper. 

She didn't understand how in the world he got her phone number but... 

How the FUCK did Mortiarty get her phone number?


	4. A Midnight Meeting

There was two ways Sherlock could have gone about it. Three if she ignored the message entirely but even Sherlock knew that it probably wouldn't be the best idea to ignore a criminal mastermind. Sherlock could have said "no." She could have denied that simple request. The question, of course, did she deny that simple request? 

"I was surprised to say the least." Moriarty offered her a seat. 

Moriarty had invited Sherlock to a private restaurant, usually used by gangsters and other classes of criminals of London. It was no shock to Sherlock that Moriarty would have been able to hire it for this particular party. He was clad in his signature suit, his battle armor. Instead of an arrogant smirk, there was a soft smile on his face. 

Sherlock sat herself down in the seat, taking off her coat to reveal a purple dress, it had a sophisticated look to it, just like the woman herself. Wary of herself, Sherlock looked up at the man in front of her and found herself stumped. Was this the same man who threatened to blow up John? Who had already blown up others? God knows how many people he's killed or has had someone else killed them. 

"Tell me," Moriarty clicked his fingers for the waiter to bring the wine over, "have you ever heard the tale of the scorpion and the frog?" 

"Yes," Sherlock replied, "I always found it sad but... reality often is." 

There was a flicker in his eyes, not a look of evil though. 

"My mother told me that story when I was 5." He sighed. "I never knew what it meant until I grew up, became my own man, etc."

"Why did you ask me to come?" 

"Oh," Moriarty sipped his wine, "I'm... very interested in you. Not in a weird way," he chuckled lightly, "you're not like most people." 

Sherlock noted how he said "people" and not "women". She had to wonder how many people had wronged him. How different did he feel against everyone else? Does he feel the same way she feels? 

"I wanted to offer my hand of friendship." 

"Even though you clearly wanted to kill me." 

"Did I?" He pointed his finger at her, he curled it back and looked to the floor on the side. "It wasn't you strapped to the C4." 

Good point. Sherlock was cautious when she picked the wine up. It could've been poisoned but he had drank some. The glass could've had a-

"It's fine." Moriarty gestured to the glass. "I wouldn't kill myself after I've asked you to come." 

"I-"

"You don't trust me." Moriarty still had the soft expression. "I wouldn't trust me either." 

"I don't trust most people." 

"Yet, you trust this John Watson." 

Sherlock bit her lip. 

"You don't love him though," he noted, "it's obvious. I was the same. I had a friend. Everyone thought we were in love. Nope. I never felt anything for her... or for anyone else." 

_Am I weird, Mycroft?_

Sherlock's eyes glazed over for a moment. She brushed the hair out of her face. She picked up a menu and looked what Moriarty was offering. 

_Weird? Yes. Normal is overrated, sister dear._

"I apologize." Moriarty put his glass down. "I didn't mean to offend." 

"You didn't." Sherlock met his eyes. "I just remembered something."

_Oh, Sherlock, you're going to have to grow up and be a proper lady._

"Did you ever get told you wouldn't amount to anything? Or did you get told that you were extraordinary?" 

"Both." Moriarty said simply. "People like us... we get told both and then we struggle to separate the two." 

"The boy at the swimming pool. Why did you kill him?" 

"He made fun of me." Moriarty said it as though it was so mundane. "I was very sick and tired of hearing the bullshit that came out of his mouth." 

"There was a girl at school who used to make fun of me. One day, I was in one of the cubicles in the girls' bathroom. She pulled my hair back and he friend did this," Sherlock pulled the hair away from the back of her neck, showing him a thin scar. "She tried to drug me and it was then when i knew that I was never going to let anyone hurt me again." 

"It's why you don't "feel" anything." Moriarty realized. "Yet, you feel everything and anything until it bubbles over and you-"

"Erupt like a volcano." Sherlock laughed under her breath, "It's stupid, yet true." 

"Forget about everything tonight," Moriarty rang the bell on the table, "dinner's on me." 


End file.
